


of bastard princes and entitled men

by queerfawn



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, M/M, Magic AU, Power Imbalances, Royalty AU, Selkies, i guess lmao, not really but kinda, period and setting not specified, that's gonna be a big theme, title and rating subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerfawn/pseuds/queerfawn
Summary: He would've been a prince had he not been a bastard. The thought haunted him as he walked through the streets of the washed up seaside town. His mother would have been queen and he would be inheriting a kingdom sooner rather than later considering the rumored state of his father.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh i wrote this at three am because i was thinking about selkies and jamilton and i love selkies and here we are  
> there's some brief and vague mentions of coercion in the beginning and slight nsfw themes like halfway through the chapter so pls be cautious  
> also this probs isn't gonna end happy but i have some happy wips!!! so happy stuff soon

He would've been a prince if he wasn't a bastard. His father was violent and greedy, even for a king, and when he'd seen his mother in the market place- young and pretty with eyes that seemed impossibly wide and dark- he'd paid to have her taken in. When he'd found her pelt, tucked away where the other maids wouldn't find it, he'd stolen it away from her with the promise of returning it if she lay with him. He never returned it.

Both she and the king were aghast to learn his greed had resulted in a child. She did everything in her power in an attempt to abort it, but to no avail. When he arrived she was thankful her attempts had failed. The king was a better father than to be expected and gave the child and his mother everything they needed and hid them away from public eye. When word got out years later about the kings whore and bastard spawn however, he did nothing and left them to flee.

His mother was never able to steal away her pelt, but knowing her son would never be happy living just as a man they moved into a tiny cottage by the shore, though it hurt her to be so very close to her true home but never return. She died not two years later of some dreadful illness. He survived, drawing strength from the sea but watched helplessly as his mother was unable to do the same.

He would've been a prince had he not been a bastard. The thought haunted him as he walked through the streets of the washed up seaside town. His mother would have been queen and he would be inheriting a kingdom sooner rather than later considering the rumored state of his father.

He pushed the thought aside as he pulled open the door of the building that held the town paper, bustling with people and smelling strongly of printers ink. Washington, the man who ran the paper gave him a wave as he walked into the building, a new poem in hand. It was an easy way to make money for his days on land, which he took great pleasure in. He liked watching the funny humans and how oblivious they were to the inner-workings of their world- though if he was being honest there was little difference between them.

"Alexander!" Chimed the other man with a smile. "What do you have for us today?"

Alex offered a smile and handed over his poem. "Just a poem, sir. Do you want me to put together an article on anything for next week?"

"No, no I believe our journalists have it covered," He said absently as he read over the piece. "Beautiful as always! How are you doing young man? Getting enough to eat?" He asked, going to fetch Alexander's payment.

"Oh yes, thank you sir. It's been a little rough finding work these past weeks, but I manage," He said with a pleasant smile. He had his mothers eyes and knew that a smile and a soft gaze served him well.

"Well I'm glad to hear that at least. You can always get a quick meal here if you need it, alright? Don't be afraid to take it," George said genuinely as he passed over several coins. He knew he was paid far more handsomely than he should have been for a few hastily written lines about the ocean, but he wasn't about to deny the money.

"Thank you sir, I will. I'll be sure to stop by soon," He replied, slipping back onto the street after a hasty farewell.

He bought a sweet roll from a little girl in the market place and more ink and a new quill from his favorite stationary shop before deciding to indulge himself with a drink from the towns only pub and perhaps companionship for the night. It wasn't often he found another man willing to take him home. Barely nineteen, short in stature, and chubby wasn't exactly in high demand- especially not bundled with the risk of being charged with sodomy. And then all of the women in the region where prudish and Catholic and believed sex with anyone other than their one true love meant eternal damnation so they were far from willing to lift their skirts for a pretty fool with a little pocket money.

But nonetheless he sat down at the bar, bought a drink and looked around for a worthy target. He hadn't given a second glance to the drunks a few seats down until one of them had an alarming outburst.

"There's a selkie living by the shore! Swear to the Lord I saw 'em!" One of them cried.

"Think it might be the kings old whore? 'E swore up 'n down she was a witch," The other chimed in helpfully.

Alexander's grip on his glass tightened before he set his jaw and decided not to act a fool. "No, I think I heard she died a few years back," He offered, resisting the urge to defend his mother.

The first one nodded solemnly. "Aie, I remember hearing that too. Must mean a new one came to town."

"We should hunt 'er down and steal 'er skin!" The other declared, earning a shout of agreement from his companion. "S'posed 'ta be the finest sluts ya' ever saw."

Alexander felt suddenly sick. He downed the rest of his drink in one quick swallow and left some money on the counter before hurrying out. He had intended to run some other errands before returning to his home but he found he wasn't quite feeling up to it with rumors of his existence circulating. He must've gotten lazy or cocky and been seen stepping in or out of his skin. Such a stupid mistake.

He could've forgiven himself had he been new to it, but he wasn't and he couldn't. He wasn't twelve anymore, struggling to survive as a sought after prize and a near orphan. He thought bitterly that he never would've been in either of these situations had his damned father just properly courted his mother.

He threw open the door of the cottage he'd once shared with his mother before locking it hastily. He hurried to his sore excuse of a bedroom and pushed his bed away from the wall, clawing at it before finding the hidden compartment lurking there and pulling out his pelt. At first he just buried his face in his own soft gray fur and inhaled the scent of the sea. Home. The sun was near setting, he'd sneak away to a nearby alcove once the moon had risen and-

A knock sounded at the door. He cursed and tucked his skin away, rearranging things as quickly as possible before dashing to the door, dark eyes wild and clothes disheveled. He received a strange look from the stranger standing before him before he spoke.

"Are you the poet who submits to the paper near every weak?" The stranger drawled, clearly under the impression he had better things to do.

Alexander huffed and straightened his clothes, leaning against the door frame and rudely refusing to offer entry. "What's it to you?"

The other man muttered something that sounded like 'petulant child' and Alex began to slam the door in his face. "Wait!" He shouted, grimacing as he forcibly held the door open. "I'm Thomas Jefferson, a friend of Washington's."

That at least caught his attention. Alex wasn't sure why the man who ran the paper would be sending a friend to his home, but he raised a questioning eyebrow as an indication to go on.

"There's a real bad storm coming through tonight, he wants you to come stay with him. This place will probably be rubble come morning," Jefferson explained, sounding so disinterested he was sure it made no difference to the man whether he lived or died.

"I give my thanks, but I'd much rather stay here," Alexander replied, thinking of his pelt stowed one room over. It would be more than enough protection.

"I beg your pardon?" Jefferson asked, clearly caught off guard.

"Thank you, but no. Now be on your way," Alex nearly spat, on edge from his encounter in the bar and not having been in the water for some time now. Jefferson took a startled step back and he promptly slammed the door.

"You're making a mistake!"

"Goodnight!" Alexander called back, chuckling to himself at the huff and stomping footsteps that could be heard from the other side of the door. And he'd called Hamilton petulant.

After that he locked himself away and waited for the sun to set, at which point he stripped off his clothes and fetched his skin. The winds were picking up as the moon began to rise. He watched with a bored expression as rain began to pelt down against his bare skin. It did seem the storm tonight would be far from pleasant. He hummed in amusement as he slipped his skin about himself and began his transformation, finding himself completely in the form of a seal in just a moment and promptly slipping beneath the waves. The sea would keep him safe.


End file.
